For the latter part of the way she thought of nothing but reaching the shelter of Camilla's north room; her mind regarding all else was at rest.
Miss Camilla's house was closed as tightly as a convent; not a breath of out-door air would she have admitted after the early mornings of those hot days.

Lucina entered into night and coolness in comparison with the glare of day outside.

When she had her hat removed, and sat in the green gloom of the north parlor, sipping a glass of water which Liza had drawn from the lowest depths of the well, then flavored with currant-jelly and loaf-sugar, she felt almost at peace with her own worries.
Her aunt Camilla, clad in dimly flowing old muslin, sat near the chimney-place, swaying a feather fan.

She had her Bible on her knees, but she had not been reading; the light was too dim for her eyes.

The fireplace was filled with the feathery green of asparagus, which also waved lightly over the gilded looking-glass, and was reflected airily therein.